


Yellow Lines

by geniewithwifi



Series: Hero Quintessence [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Freeform, sitting in the road
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4567083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniewithwifi/pseuds/geniewithwifi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t know where he is, somewhere between Home and Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow Lines

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. I just started writing. Prompted from a video Stephen Amell posted on set on Aug 7 2015. An extended metaphor.
> 
> It didn't feel right to put in it with my drabble collection so it's just kinda here. I apologize in advance for the feels.

He sits there, in the middle of the road, cross legged, just staring at the yellow lines. 

He doesn’t know where he is, somewhere between Home and Hell. It’s sometime before dawn. 

If Felicity were here she would scold him. He’s sitting out in the open, hood down, mask off, covered in emerald leather. His quiver sits on his back and his bow in his lap. 

Just staring at the yellow lines. 

Yellow like her hair.

Gold, like her ring.

Bright, like her smile.

He was the contrast, the pavement, the dark background enhancing her sunshine. Her opposite in every way. 

The lines were a division, between two different ways. Yellow lines in his life, the hero and the hunter, two alternative ways heading in two opposite directions.

Felicity kept him on the right side, the hero side. 

When he had first come back to Starling, death haunting his every footsteps, he had chosen the path of the hunter, the road leading to Hell. Every body dropped, every heart that stopped beating was another mile traversed, down the dark and solemn path. 

Then joy incarnate appeared and showed him the other path. She made him look, made him recognize the yellow lines, made him make a u-turn, crossing the dashed marks. 

She showed him Home. 

The other direction, the Hero way, was tough, an uphill climb. Every step he slid back but she was always ahead of him, coaching, encouraging. 

She  _became_ his Home. 

Soon, every unstable step became worth if, if it meant he was that much closer to her. Every breath, every heartarche, every obstacle was necessary, he deemed, because it meant he had her. 

Until the road ended. His Home was taken from him, violently, softly, unexpectedly. Two seconds ago she was there, holding his hand, telling him that she loved him. 

For two seconds. 

Then he watched as his Home burned. Revenge and Greed drove the man to take what the Hunter Oliver had been, had also taken. Happiness.

And so he sits, blood of thousands surrounding him of his rage. The Hero slipped, and with no Felicity to drive him onwards he fell. He crossed back over the passing lane, slipping easily into Hunter mode. They must pay for what they have done.

Now, three steps from Hell he pauses. Thinks. What would Felicity say if she were here? Would she judge him, turn her back? No. Her hands would caress his face and tell him, despite him failing, that he was a good man.

And so he sits. In between his destroyed Home and denied Hell, the man who had lost everything but gained so much,, stared at the crossing lines. 

Waiting for the Sun. 


End file.
